


for we are a woven thread

by alessandriana



Category: Emelan - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 02:50:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4083808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alessandriana/pseuds/alessandriana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since they left Gyongxe. Briar shouldn't still be dreaming about it.</p><p>(Or: Briar has nightmares. The others help.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	for we are a woven thread

He was in the Yangjinyi Emperor's gardens. Rows of rose bushes lined the road, leading up a long hill. The Emperor stood at the top, arms folded into his sleeves.

Briar started up the path, knowing in a dim and distant way that something bad would happen it he didn't make it to the Emperor in time. But the road seemed to stretch ever longer as he climbed; his leg burned in pain where the scar bisected his thigh, and someone had lit the rose bushes on fire-- the smoke and the flames were blocking his way, acrid in his nostrils. He couldn't find the path. He couldn't breathe. He dropped to his knees, fighting for clear air, eyes stinging and streaming-- was that blood dripping into his eyes? He couldn't stop, he had to make it to the top: Rosethorn and Evvy were there! 

_...briar?_

He crawled forward an inch at a time, feeling before him with his hands. His fingers met a patch of upturned dirt that someone had dug at the base of one of the rosebushes, and something cold and soft within it. He scrabbled at the dirt, horror filling his veins, knowing what he would find. He unearthed a hand, pale and cold, and then an arm, a shoulder, a head-- red hair-- he scrambled backwards from Rosethorn's staring eyes, moaning deep in his throat. 

He ran up against something and turned, to find Evvy's body draped across the dirt. A path of red footsteps trailed behind her, where her torn and broken feet had bled on the ground. Her arm was outstretched; she'd been trying to reach him. 

_Briar._

He turned to run, unable to face his failure, but there was nowhere to go; all around him were the uncountable thousands of Gyongxe dead, piled high. The entire hill was their grave, he realized, and the Emperor stood on their bodies, laughing and laughing. He tripped and fell and when he went to stand he realized the body he was lying on was Sandry's, and underneath her Daja's, and Tris-- 

_BRIAR._

Briar awoke with a start. His heart pounded wildly in his ears. His mouth was ashy and his nostrils were filled with the scent of smoke and rotting meat. For a long moment he didn't know where he was. 

Slowly, the silence penetrated past the noise of his blood rushing in his ears. It was a calm silence, broken only by the quiet noises of a house settling in on itself for the night. Wind rattled the window pane. An owl hooted softly in the darkness. His shakkan glowed at the edge of his awareness, a warm comforting presence, and the more distant sense of greenery in the gardens downstairs prickled at his mind.

He was home, in Emelan, in the house he shared with two of his three sisters. 

He gradually became aware of the soft breathing at the other end of the room that meant he wasn't alone. He inhaled carefully through his nose, counting to seven. Held it for another seven. Released it. The scent of smoke faded, replaced by the scents of ozone and rain and paper. 

_Coppercurls?_ he sent, without opening his eyes. His jaw was clenched so tightly together that he wasn't sure he'd be able to force words out if he tried. His throat was raw. He hoped he hadn't been screaming, but if his sister had come, that was probably a futile wish. _Sorry-- did I wake you?_ Even his mental voice wobbled; he clamped down on it before it could betray him further.

_No. There's a storm brewing out over the water; I was up watching it._

Her voice steadied him. He allowed himself to open his eyes. The room was dim; a faint patch of moonlight splashed across the floorboards from the window. Tris had settled several feet from his bed, just at the edge of the light, crouched back on her heels with her nightclothes billowing around her. They'd learned better than to try and shake him awake the time he'd nearly accidentally gutted Daja with the knife he kept under his pillow, thinking she was a Yanjingyi soldier. Only her fast reflexes had saved her. 

He'd felt awful about it, but he still kept the knife where it was. You never knew. 

He uncurled from the tight ball and sat up, feeling muscles tremble. Instead of looking at Tris's face, he looked out the window. She was right, of course; the sky was beginning to cloud over. 

_Some really odd precipitation out there,_ Tris added. 

_Yeah?_ he asked, not caring so much about the answer, just wanting her to keep talking. 

_It appears to be raining fish._

Briar was surprised into a laugh, wincing as his abused vocal cords protested. _Seriously?_ he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. _You fooling me?_

_Seriously. A school of them got caught up by a waterspout. It spat them out over a nearby town. There will be some very surprised residents in the morning, I can tell you._

Briar snickered silently, careful this time for the sake of his throat. _And some grateful cats, I expect._ His heart clenched, and he shied away from the memory of Evvy's. 

_That, too._ Tris eyed him for a moment. "Be right back," she said out loud, raising from her crouch. 

Briar settled back onto his mattress, running a sleeve across his face to wipe away the sweat and tear tracks. He'd soaked through his nightclothes with fear sweat, and now they were drying on him, and he was starting to shiver. He grabbed a clean set from his nightstand and changed, ignoring how his hands were still shaking. A noise outside the window caught his attention; a climbing rose had crept up the sill and was growing tendrils into the wood, trying to find a way in to him. It had heard his distress.

 _I'm alright,_ he reassured it. _Just bad dreams. Nothing here I need protecting from._

The rose flexed its thorns, conveying worry. It didn't know what bad dreams were, just that Briar was upset. 

By the time he'd coaxed it back onto its trellis, Tris was back, bearing a tray with two cups of tea and a small jar, careful printing on the label indicating it was one of Briar's own remedies for sore throats. She set it on the floor in front of Briar and then sank onto the mattress next to him, kicking her legs out across the floor. Steam rose from the cups, the scent of chamomile and rosehips filling the room and banishing the last traces of smoke. He picked up a cup and sipped gratefully. This was one of Rosethorn's blends for calm minds, and the faint tingle of her magic against his hands and lips did as much to settle him as the tea itself. 

Tris picked up her own cup but didn't drink, staring at the patch of moonlight with an abstract look on her face. It was the same expression she got on her face when she was working magic, but right now her magic was quiet, a steady glow beneath her skin. It was also, he realized, the expression she got when she was working on a hard problem. 

Well, that was him alright. A _problem._

"Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself," she said, not looking away from whatever had captured her attention. _Else I'll call Sandry in and you can tell_ her _exactly what you just thought._

His hands tightened on his cup, then relaxed. _Eavesdropping?_ he asked. _Or am I still just that predictable?_

Her lips quirked. _Both._

He smirked, but his heart wasn't in it. He sipped at his tea again, then nudged Tris with his shoulder. _Your tea's goin' cold. Don't let it go to waste; Rosethorn worked hard on that._

Tris looked down at her cup like she'd forgotten its existence, but raised it to her lips, taking a long sip. Then she leaned forward and picked the remedy jar up off the tray. "Don't forget these either," she said, passing it over.

Briar took it and popped the lid, sorting through the drops inside for one of the raspberry ones. It was one of his and Rosethorn's latest creations. The medicine itself was made of slippery elm, echinacea and menthol, mixed together as a liquid to help sooth irritated throats. The echinacea was strong tasting, though, and the menthol wasn't exactly subtle either; they'd had a hard time finding a way to mask the taste until they'd enlisted Dedicate Gorse's help. Gorse had suggested they try using honey drops, a traditional Narmornese sweet that contained different flavored syrups inside a hardened shell. It had worked beautifully. Not only did it mask the taste, but it had the benefit of letting the medicine dissolve slowly, extending its effects over a longer period of time. They'd been selling almost as fast as they could make them.

He found the flavor he wanted and removed it from its thin paper wrapping, popping the drop into his mouth and letting it rest against his cheek as he sucked at it. Slowly the medicine worked its way down his throat, soothing the roughness. "Thanks," he said, once he thought he could speak again without pain. 

"'Welcome," Tris said, eyes never leaving the patch of light from the window. When Briar focused, curious, he noticed silver motes of dust dancing in the moonlight, blown here and there by the room's air currents. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Tris murmured, and Briar had to agree. 

They sat like that for a number of minutes, Briar letting the silence of midnight creep into his bones. He finished his tea but kept the teacup cradled in his hands, running his fingers along the rim, tracing the pattern of dancers etched in blue along the sides. Tris breathed steadily to his right. Daja had fallen asleep at her worktable in her forge again, and she was dreaming of metal birds that could fly. Sandry was out at the castle. All his plants were asleep, even the rose that had been so worried earlier, and in their calm he began to believe he might actually be able to go back to bed sometime that night. 

"That's the third time this week, isn't it?" Tris asked quietly, still with that abstract expression on her face. "And it's only Firesday. And your mattress is back down on the floor-- you haven't done that in years."

Briar found a knot on the floorboards unexpectedly fascinating. For a moment he warred with embarrassment, for her noticing, and anger, for her pointing it out. Then he sighed, and imagined the emotions sinking into the dirt below him. This was Tris. She wouldn't laugh. 

"Fourth, actually," he muttered. She'd been asleep during the other, and hadn't woken. "And I got used to camping on the ground. Bed's too soft." 

Tris's eyebrows were scrunched down in an expression he recognized all too well. "I thought this mind healer of yours was supposed to be the best," she snapped. "If she's not helping, maybe you should find someone else." 

"I've only been seeing her two weeks, Coppercurls. And she did say it'd get worse 'fore it got better." Besides, it was the same person Rosethorn was seeing. If he had to let someone into his head-- someone besides his sisters, that was-- he'd prefer it was someone who was also seeing the events from someone else's perspective. Some of his memories of the war were... fuzzy. She'd been able to help him clarify some. "She has to bring stuff up first, before we can go through it. And bringing it up means I dream about it."

"It can't possibly be helping you to get so little sleep, though," Tris said. She grabbed his chin and tilted his head towards the light from the window, examining his face. "The bags under your eyes get any bigger, and someone's going to mistake them for a Money-Bags' purse." Briar snorted, amused by her use of his terminology. She continued, "Can't you mix yourself up a sleeping potion or something?" 

Briar shoved her off. "No," he snapped, amusement fading. "I don't do sleeping potions, not anymore." 

Tris's frown deepened. "Why on earth not?" 

He closed his eyes. It had taken some time, but Briar had learned the delicate balance of keeping the memories of Yanjing and Gyongxe back from his connection to the girls without having to block them out completely. He hid them behind a wall of thorns and vines all woven together, so they wouldn't stumble upon them unexpectedly. They could have gotten in if they really tried, but so far they'd allowed him his secrets. 

Now, he pulled out the memory of the sleep spell that had put them out for three days, long enough for the Emperor of Yanjing to capture Garmashing. He showed her that, and showed her how he'd struggled up out of sleep to find himself a prisoner, not knowing where Rosethorn and Evvy were, knowing his fate was likely to be bloody and horrible. _My body and mind fight any sleep remedies now,_ he told her. _I wake up thinking I'm back there. It's worse than no sleep at all._

He opened his eyes. Tris had bitten her lip until it was white under the pressure, and her hands were clenched on her knees. But her gaze was direct, and she hadn't pulled back from him. 

"Alright," she allowed, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat. "No sleep remedies. Is there anything else that helps?" 

Well, sex helped. "Ow!" Briar yelped and rubbed his arm where Tris had slugged him, hard. "It's _true!"_

Tris sat back, crossing her arms over her chest. There was a high embarrassed flush on her cheeks. A spark crawled along the braid by her face, before she tossed her head, banishing it. _You're a pig,_ she informed him. _Of all the things I don't want to know about my brother..._

 _You asked!_ Briar shot back. _And it does help!_

 _Hmph._ The glare didn't soften, but the lines across her forehead eased, and he could tell she was thinking. After a while she asked, _Is it the--_ she stumbled over the word, but forced herself to go through with it-- _is it the sex itself, or is it having someone nearby as you sleep? Because I remember when we were kids, and one of us had nightmares, we would all huddle together, and that helped, I think._

Briar opened and closed his mouth. It was his turn to blush. "It's--." He stopped. Actually, he wasn't sure. 

_And if it's the sex, well._ Tris's face was still red, but she persevered. _This is your home too, and you can bring girls back if you want. Or don't you boys have other ways, to take care of that by yourselves--?_

 _Augh!_ Briar flung his hands over his ears, though it wouldn't do any good blocking her voice through their magic. _Stop, please!_

Tris subsided, but there was a wicked smile tugging at her lips. 

Briar settled back against the wall, still hot with embarrassment. After a minute, he started chuckling quietly, then outright laughing. It was still strange, being able to talk about adult things with his sisters-- he'd only just started finding girls interesting when he'd left with Rosethorn. 

Tris joined in with the laughter, leaning against his side and covering her eyes with her hand as she snickered. 

"Ah, gods," Briar said, laughter dying down to the odd chuckle. He felt better for it. Cleaner. "I think--" he started to answer her question, then had to pause for a jaw-cracking yawn, "I think it's the company, really. It started with Rosethorn and Evvy as we were traveling." Catching the tail end of her thought, he said, "Not like THAT! That's an even worse thought than one of you girls-- you know Rosethorn is like a mother to me, and Evvy's way too young." He glared until she held up her hands, placating. "I just mean that it got cold up in the mountains of Gyongxe, and Rosethorn's lungs ain't so good in the cold, so we'd all pile up. And then on the way back we figured pretty quick we all slept better if everyone was close by." He dropped into their magic. _We thought Evvy was dead for a while, you know, tortured and murdered--_ his voice faltered, hands squeezing so hard around each other the knuckles turned white. _Well, she_ was _tortured, but not murdered, at least._

He broke off, unable to finish. Tris hunted around in his nightstand until she found a handkerchief and handed it over; she waited patiently as he wiped his face clean, and took it back afterwards to set aside for washing in the morning. 

_So,_ he finished, _I'd wake up thinking she was dead 'less she were right there next to me. It was easier to just go along with it. Couldn't afford to make too much noise on the road and all, what with bandits round every corner._

Tris nodded seriously. _And now that you're on your own again, you're having trouble adjusting._

Briar shrugged one shoulder, uncomfortably. _I'll get used to it. It's only been a few months. The dreams were even starting to die down, 'fore I started seeing that healer._

 _And in the meantime you'll just suffer through it?_ Tris snapped. _Stop being such a martyr. There's nothing to be gained by needless suffering._

_What else am I supposed to do?_ Briar shot back. _Even I can't find a girl to tumble every single night of the week, especially with you lot lurking around the house and scaring half them off._

Tris rolled her eyes. _Isn't it obvious?_

Briar squinted at her. _Not really, no._

She leaned forward. _I'm saying that if it's just the company you need, not the sex, you have three people at hand that you can ask._

Briar flushed. "What? No!" 

"Why not?" Tris asked, exasperated. "If it helps you sleep better, where's the harm?" 

Briar wasn't sure how to explain the complicated tangle of emotions in his chest. He settled on, "I don't need you lot cuddling and cosseting me like I'm some sort of-- invalid! And I can find my own bed partners, thanks very much, I don't need you three trying to fill in." 

"Oh, don't be such an idiot," Tris snapped. "If it helps it helps, and you shouldn't throw that away just because you're embarrassed. And it's healthier than jumping into bed with everyone you meet, you know," she said sternly. "We're here, we're convenient, and you're not going to catch anything from us!" She pushed at his shoulder. "Now lie down, and get some rest!" 

Briar resisted; Tris rose up on her knees to get better leverage, and was attempting to shove his head into his pillow when a strangled cough came from the doorway. 

"Am I interrupting something?" Daja asked, amused. "I was going to bed when I heard you both talking, so I came to see what was going on." Her eyes twinkled. "I can leave if you need me to." 

Briar and Tris sprung apart. "No!" they exclaimed in horrified unison. 

Daja waited a beat, then dissolved into laughter, leaning against the doorjamb. "I'm sorry," she said, gasping for breath, "but you should see the look on your faces!" 

Briar found his pair of pants from the day before close to hand, wadded them up into a ball and threw them at her. Daja caught them, still laughing. "I'm glad you think we're so funny," Briar growled, though he wasn't truly angry. 

Daja lobbed the pants back at him and came into the room, leaning her hip against Briar's worktable. She was still in her work clothes. "So what _are_ you doing?" she asked. "Late night wrestling practice?" 

"We was just talking--" 

"Briar," Tris informed Daja over Briar's protest, "is refusing to accept help. Help that _he needs,"_ she insisted. 

Briar threw up his hands. "But I _don't_ need it! I'm fine!" 

Daja wrinkled her brow. "Is this about the mind healer again? Because I thought he'd agreed it was good for him. And I don't see what that has to do with you trying to strangle him, Tris, though Koma knows he needs it sometimes."

This time she dodged and let the pillow hit the wall instead of her, grinning. 

Briar settled back against the wall and ran his hands through his hair, tugging in frustration. "And no, it's not about the mind healer," he said. "I know I need that." He did now, at least, after Rosethorn had practically beaten it into his head.

"I wasn't trying to strangle him, I was trying to get him to _lay down,"_ Tris explained. "Briar sleeps better with someone present in the same room-- preferably the same bed-- as him. I was informing him that that's a fairly easy problem to solve, what with us available, and willing." Her eyebrows asked the question; Daja nodded, unhesitating. 

"I ain't eleven years old anymore, to have you lot share my bed to keep away the bad dreams!" Briar protested. 

Daja stepped forward until she was standing over the bed, her hands on her hips. She examined him steadily, a hint of a frown on her face, and Briar felt a growl of frustration building in his chest as he realized Daja agreed with Tris. 

"It's not childish to need help," she said calmly. "Or to accept it. Or should I tell Rosethorn you think she's childish for seeking help from Lark?"

"That's not-- that's different," Briar protested. "And I am getting help. I'm goin' to the mind-healer, ain't I?" 

He was getting worked up, and still wasn't so used to having to keep his emotions pent decently in his head where they belonged for fear they'd leak between them, so it really shouldn't have been such a surprise when the third presence at the back of his mind started stirring. 

_What on earth is going on with you three?_ Sandry murmured, still heavy with sleep, to all of them. _It's past midnight. Did something happen?_

 _Just Briar being an idiot,_ Tris informed her. 

_Tell me something else new,_ Sandry replied. 

_Hey!_ Briar sent back. Who'd declared it 'everyone gang up on Briar day'? _It's nothin', go back to sleep,_ he ordered. 

Sandry ignored him, of course, never one to want to be left out of anything. 

He could tell from the quality of Tris's silence that she was bringing Sandry up to speed, though she'd thrown up a block so he couldn't hear what exactly it was she was saying. 

_Don't believe anything she says,_ he sent to Sandry, futilely. She returned a sense of amusement, but quickly sobered. 

_It sounds like Tris has come up with a decent solution,_ she said, sounding much more awake now. _You sleep better with company. We're company._

 _Not you too,_ Briar thought, frustrated and feeling a growing sense of being boxed in. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. Tris and Daja he could stand up to; Sandry was a force unto herself, and when she had latched onto an idea, armies couldn't tear her away from it. _I don't need you three sticking your nebs in,_ he said. _Let me deal with this one on my own, alright?_

 _So you can accept help from Rosethorn and Evvy, but not us?_ Tris asked. Briar caught the edge of hurt that came along with the words, and he faltered for a moment. 

_No, it's just-- arrgh._ He flopped facedown on the bed, letting the pillow muffle his noise of aggravation. He didn't know how to put it into words why he was so against them helping with this. 

_They were there, and we weren't,_ Sandry put in. 

Briar winced. They all felt it, and knew that she'd hit the mark. 

_Well, we're here now,_ she said, briskly. _You're not required to talk about what happened if you don't want to, but if you're refusing our help because you think we won't understand, or because you're too embarrassed to accept it, then you really are a bleat-brain._ Her voice had an uncharacteristic snap to it. _You're family. It's us. There's no need for shame here._

Briar pulled the pillow over his face and curled up on his side, knees pressing into his chest. He was silent for a long moment, warring with his pride and his embarrassment and his desire to prove that he could deal with this on his own. Only Tris was right, he _wasn't_ dealing. 

_I keep thinking,_ he said slowly, the words spilling almost unwillingly from him, _that I got no right to feel like this. To be so-- bothered. I got off easy, you know? So many people was hurt so much worse than me. They lost their homes, their families, they were injured and killed-- so why am I the one who can't get over it?_ He kept his face covered, unable to look at them. _I shouldn't feel like this._

 _Pain isn't a competition, Briar,_ Tris said dryly. _There's no scale that says, oh, here's the point where you're allowed to be traumatized, here and no less. Just because someone else had it worse than you doesn't invalidate the fact that bad things also happened to you. Horrible things._ She squeezed his ankle, which was the closest part of him she could reach. _You know it took me years to stop screaming the whole house awake when I dreamt about the pirates._

 _I saw a friend murder a hundred and fifty people,_ Daja put in. _I helped kill him. And even with all that, I know you saw many more than that die, and killed more. Yet I had nightmares for months afterwards. Am I not allowed those, because you saw more death than I did?_

 _I still dream about killing the Dihanurs,_ Sandry added quietly. _The way they all spun apart. Only three people. Does that mean I can't ask for help because it was less than you had to kill?_

 _No,_ Briar replied, horrified. Some of their emotions had leaked in around those words, and he knew what it had cost them to bring those memories up. _That's-- that ain't what I meant at all._

_Then let us help, Briar. We love you and it hurts us to see you hurting. Especially when it isn't necessary._

Briar stared at the darkness on the inside of his eyelids for a very long minute as he struggled to put away his pride and his embarrassment, and knew they were right. 

He heaved a shaky sigh. 

"Strictly trial basis only," he said, pulling his pillow away so his mouth was free. "If it don't work we go back to normal, hear?"

"Deal," Tris said instantly, ever the merchant's daughter. He could feel their relief, bright in his mind, and was inwardly ashamed for this proof of how much he'd been distressing them. 

Daja nodded. "That's acceptable." She stood. "Be back in a minute," she said. "I can't sleep in this." She tugged at the neck of her shirt, still dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing all day in the forge. Thanks to Sandry the worst of the dirt had been kept off, but she still smelled faintly of smoke.

Sandry grinned to herself in her bed at the castle. _Do you want me to come down now? I can, if you need me to._

 _Don't bother. It's past midnight and it's a half hour's ride,_ Briar said. _Those streets ain't fit for a lady like you at night._

She huffed a little in irritation, knowing he was tweaking her nose deliberately. _As if I couldn't take anyone who tried something!_

_Still. I've got enough company for the moment. Go back to bed._

_Oh, fine._ Sandry settled more comfortably into her pillows, pulling her sheets up around her neck and closing her eyes. _Next time, then._

_If there is a next time._ Briar grumbled a little as he gathered up his bedclothes-- thrown into complete disarray by the squabble they'd had-- and straightened them out. Tris helped. When he was done, he threw himself on his back in the middle of the bed, determined to take up as much space as possible. 

When Daja came back she'd changed into a nightgown-- a concession, as she usually slept only in a breast band and loincloth-- and she'd rinsed off as well. Briar was glad for it; he hadn't mentioned it to her, but the smell of smoke still reminded him too strongly of Gyongxe's burning countryside. Maybe she knew, though, or had guessed; he wouldn't put it past her.

She set her blankets and pillow on the floor by the bed. She held an incense stick in her free hand and now she pressed her fingers to the tip, lighting it with her magic. The rose scent filled the room, chasing out the bad air as well as the nightmares. Briar was suddenly reminded of Daja doing the same for him after Flick had died of the blue pox. Had it really been seven years already? He felt his heart clench, guilty that it had been so long since he'd last thought of her. 

Finished, Daja set the incense in a holder on Briar's shrine in the corner, and came to the bed. "Scoot," she ordered, and Briar rolled onto his side, grumbling. The bed was decent sized-- large enough for two, at least-- but a tight fit for three. Eventually they ended up with Tris curled into his side, using his shoulder for a pillow, and Daja on her side, one leg dangling off the mattress onto the floor. Sandry lay in her bed at the castle with her arm around a pillow, pretending it was him. 

Briar heaved a sigh. "We're never to speak of this," he said, feeling Tris's hair tickle his face and the rise and fall of Daja's shoulders against his arm as she breathed. It was just this side of uncomfortably warm, though the breeze from the window-- Tris had opened it sometime when he wasn't paying attention-- helped. 

Tris flapped a hand at him irritably. "Go to sleep," she said. She removed her glasses and set them on the nightstand, then closed her eyes, doing as she'd suggested. 

He'd thought he would end up staring at the ceiling for hours. Instead, he closed his eyes, feeling the soft breathing of the girls around him and Sandry's comforting presence at the back of his mind, and the dark waves of sleep pulled him immediately under. 

***

He slept soundlessly, deeply and most importantly _dreamlessly_ for thirteen hours, waking only once around dawn to stagger to the privy and back. Sometime past noon he started drifting slowly back into the waking world. He was on his side, his face pressed up against something soft; someone's hand was resting on his head, idly petting his hair. He knew it was Tris by the way the hair stood on end, following the static electricity in her hand. It was getting long again; he should get it cut. 

He felt... content, that was the word. 

Eventually his arm started falling asleep. He rolled until he was on his back, blinking blearily up at the ceiling. Tris was sitting up against the wall, still in her nightclothes, though she'd obtained a book somewhere. Daja had disappeared. 

Seeing him awake, Tris stuck a finger in her book to mark her place and said, "Daja had to meet with some merchants this morning for a project she's working on. Sleep well?" 

"Mmmrf." Still dazed with more sleep at once than he'd managed in the entirety of the last week, it was too much effort to make his mouth form coherent words. There was no point in trying to pretend he hadn't slept well. Inside their magic, he said, _When you're right, you're right, Coppercurls._

 _And you'd better remember it,_ she advised him sternly. He could feel that he'd pleased her, though. 

He drifted for a while, comfortable, and not yet awake enough to try and get up. Tris went back to paging through her book. In the markets, Daja was dickering with a merchant over the price of a new metal from the south, aluminum, though she paused to acknowledge him as he passed through. Sandry was reading castle budget reports, and she sparkled at him as she realized he was awake, pleased as punch. 

_And you're all alright with this?_ he finally asked them all. _I don't know how long it'll to take me to get better._

 _We'll be here as long as you need us,_ Daja said. She added wryly, _Besides, I suppose it won't hurt me to sleep in an actual bed sometimes, rather than falling asleep in my forge all the time._

 _There's nothing keeping me at the castle at night except convenience,_ Sandry said. _And I've been meaning to come home more often. This will be a good excuse._

Tris shrugged. _I slept better, too,_ she admitted. 

Briar sighed. _You'll all be the death of me,_ he said, feeling so insufferably fond of them all that it was almost painful. How had he gone so long without them? How had he ever thought it was a good idea to block them out of his mind? With them at his back, he felt more solid, more steady than he'd been since Gyongxe. He might not be all the way to healed yet, but for the first time in a long time, he thought he might be on the path. 

Throwing the covers aside, he rolled to his feet. It was time to get ready for the day.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Vienna Teng's "The Breaking Light."
> 
> _Watch the shadow lines fade away_  
>  _Brother you will return_  
>  _Let your lion heart cleave the waves_  
>  _Brother you will return_  
>  _In the breaking light_
> 
> _Leave the battlefield, leave her hand_  
>  _Brother you will return_  
>  _For we are a woven thread, find the strand_  
>  _Brother you will return_  
>  _In the breaking light_


End file.
